Rumoured
by kurgaya
Summary: M for somewhat violent imagery at the beginning - Ichimaru/Hitsugaya - Rumour has it addictions are catastrophically romantic. It's just as well Ichimaru never listens to rumours – he would have to agree with them.


**Notes**: For QueenOfCitrus, who appreciates that we have different opinions about this pairing and thus told me to write it.

I've marked this as Ichimaru/Hitsugaya but it's more pre-relationship than anything because I ran out of steam. Sorry bout that.

Rated for somewhat violent imagery at the beginning - but somehow, dammit, this drabble ends on a cute note. I don't know how.

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><p><strong>Rumoured<strong>

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><p>There is something quite innocently erotic about death, Ichimaru ponders wistfully, swinging his legs back and forth like a delighted child as another Hollow flails and screams and oozes into the slick, bubbling broth of its warrior-painted deathbed; a wretched and rotting crimson splattered across Karakura's exhausted defence. Death has good intentions and a wicked reputation – like a young boy, but more absolute and less stroppy; it's the dying that cause a fuss, blubbering and gurgling through blood-breathing throats – death, in fact, is swift and relentless and doesn't really have time for complaints, and Ichimaru smiles at the thought of 'Mother Demise'.<p>

He does not go looking for death (calling to her like a puppy; 'here girl, here girl') because he'd really rather not unnecessarily stain his hands further than he has, and he is a captain of the Gotei Thirteen and – thus, quite unfortunately – has a reputation to uphold. Cruelty is not a word he would willingly associate with anyone – 'selective murderous barbarians' would perhaps reflect more of the captains' true personalities than they would like to admit (even _he_ knows Unohana is scary) – but as he observes his comrade from his perch he has to question who exactly of the two of them displays more striking characteristics of the demoralising definition of a 'monster'.

Certainty not _he_, who stays his hand and keeps his uniform angelically immaculate?

Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, and though he sees the world through fractured rose-tinted glasses, Ichimaru thinks that there's a strong possibility that the brusque sight of carnage before him might just be everything he has ever wished for.

Tōshirō Hitsugaya is a relentless individual. He throws his passion into even laborious tasks of routine, challenging himself to be victorious in entirety because he'll settle for nothing less, but his almost ignorance determination is none more apparent than upon the battlefield. Unstoppable; irrepressible; the young captain dances around the hell-hounds, teasing their noses and claws with fleeting skin of a ghost and evanescent hair of snow. He calculates each move before it's made, considers every variable of his opponent's frightening abilities, and then effortlessly soars like a spirit of the wind to the inevitable sum of his precision. The pack of Hollow are brutally outmatched, and death coaxes them away with loving words and mortal assurances of relief while Hitsugaya sways on.

It's terrifying. Ichimaru can't get enough.

He doesn't know when his obsession started – because that's what it is, an obsession; denying it to be anything but would be grievously repulsive of him, especially since he _craves_ it – and the barefaced truth of how entirely it has succumbed him is a nonpareil matter of vile perfection. Rangiku may be the willing seduction but Hitsugaya – _Hitsugaya_ is the addictive temptation.

Rumour has it addictions are catastrophically romantic. It's just as well Ichimaru never listens to rumours – he would have to agree with them. Apparently the Tenth Division captain is unattainable, too far buried behind his dragon-guarded fortress of icy intellect for the likes of _simple men_,but that only makes Ichimaru want him more. He _likes_ unreachable things – they're harder to break, corrupt, and destroy and much, much more entertaining – and the day he is called 'simple' is the day Ichimaru finally turns the tables and guts Aizen like the merciless mound of barracuda that he is.

…Hmm. There's a thought.

The last Hollow explodes in a devastating spray of bitter vehemence; a shrieking piece of bone fragment whizzes past Ichimaru's ear like the salacious cackling of the devil and he hums appreciatively. Clothed in blood and sweating adrenaline, Hitsugaya sheathes his zanpakuto and surveys the graveyard – Ichimaru watches him idly from his seat atop a roof, whistling a merry tune. It is slanderously inappropriate and he revels in the horrified stares from the sole survivors of Hitsugaya's squad; the titanium captain doesn't pay him any mind, however, which suits the cheerful captain just fine for the time being.

(What big eyes you have, Ichimaru).

The quivering group of young officers using Ichimaru as a human shield eventually untuck themselves from their trembling limbs and scamper over to their captain like a flock of boisterous lambs. Ichimaru tilts his head when the last offers a gracious bow in his direction; peering from oceanic eyes Hitsugaya catches the exchange, but once again refrains from making any comment. Ichimaru grins at him with a razor smile of sunlight and offers a little wave – teasing Hitsugaya is a favourite pastime of his; the grumpy genius makes it too easy to enjoy.

If he knew nothing of the world Ichimaru would be surprised at how effortless Hitsugaya could shift from controlled frenzy to huffing and irritated at everything that moved, but his eyes had opened (figuratively; he likes unnerving people) to the horrors of reality many years ago, and Hitsugaya's cool disregard for the aftermath of his mayhem is a fitting sight.

'This is how I cope,' says Hitsugaya's closed off amusement.

'And this is how _I_ cope,' says Ichimaru's virulent smile.

(What big teeth you have).

"You needed not accompany me," starts the bloodied captain, the ghostly Hollow splatter across his cheeks a mortified blush of fury. His officers hurry around to complete various clean-up tasks; one reports back to Seireitei with as good as news as they're going to get, given the situation, and since this means his usual job has been taken care of, Hitsugaya allows his gaze to lift upwards in expectancy towards his fellow captain.

"And pass up spending time with you?" Ichimaru sings, evoking a customary eye roll from the dwelling blizzard.

"I am content enough by myself," Hitsugaya explains with the voice of someone frustrated with having to repeat himself multiple times.

"Aww," Ichimaru replies, putting a hand on his heart and ignoring the exasperated huff when the other recognises the action. "You wound me. Don't you like me?"

He almost falls off of the roof when Hitsugaya blatantly hesitates.

How _interesting_.

"You need ask?" the little captain says eventually, and though he turns his back to reply to one of his officer's queries, the clenched hand that hides up a sleeve and the stiffness of his bruised shoulders almost suggest that he's… flustered?

Tōshirō Hitsugaya does not convey open embarrassment to just about anybody – or at all, Ichimaru corrects himself, humming a simple tune to disguise his curiosity. Rangiku is probably the only person currently still alive to be privy to some of her captain's more expressive moods, and she certainly winds him up to the point of scarlet blubbering from time to time, but for Hitsugaya to effectively break away mid-conversation in the hopes of stalling is… strange.

Maybe Hitsugaya isn't quite as unreachable as he seems.

Ichimaru likes it.

So much so that he refrains from lobbing dried persimmons around the Tenth Division main office the next time he drops in unannounced.

The startled apprehension on Hitsugaya's face is completely worth it.

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><p><strong>End Notes<strong>: Well, since I've never written a character like Ichimaru before, I have to say that was... difficult :)


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